


Let Me Steal This Moment From You

by zayngasm



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:46:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zayngasm/pseuds/zayngasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Think I should hang you up on the wall. You keep all the bad dreams away.” </i> Zayn becomes Liam's dreamcatcher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Steal This Moment From You

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from running up that hill (kate bush cover) by chromatics

When Liam opens his eyes, he’s covered in sweat. He feels clammy and cold and hot all at the same time, which he didn't even know was possible. It’s dark in his hotel room and he fumbles around quickly, searching for his phone. When he finds it, he uses the light from it to turn on the lamp next to his bed. The brightness calms him down a little bit. His heart, which had been speeding erratically in his chest moments ago, slows down. He wipes a hand across his forehead, frowning a little bit when he finds his hair sticking to it. Flashes of the nightmare he’d just had play across his eyelids every time he closes them, so he curls onto his side, doesn't turn off the light, and tries his best to keep his eyes open till he falls asleep an hour or so later.

He’s exhausted the next morning, but he goes for his usual jog, stretches out his limbs and gets a glass of ice cold water in him and it wakes him up, makes him feel better. By the time the other boys are awake, the dream is long forgotten.

+

It happens again a couple weeks later. He shoots upright in bed and his hand stretches out for the lamp. He doesn't stop hyperventilating until the room is basked in light.

His room is a single; Zayn’s sharing with Niall tonight. They switch on and off, though lately Zayn has been spending more nights in Niall’s room, even if that hadn't originally been the plan. Liam doesn't think much of it, knows Niall finds it difficult to sleep alone sometimes.

Still, his heart sinks a little when he looks around and takes in the empty room. Somehow he’d feel better if he weren't alone. He contemplates calling his mom, or maybe Danielle. Even though they broke up, they still talk frequently enough to be friends and she’s got a calming effect on him.

He throws the idea out immediately, though. Not only is it three in the morning, but he’s never really liked the idea of _needing_ someone. He can take care of himself.

+

When Liam wakes up a week later, his phone telling him it’s two-thirty, he decides he’ll start sleeping with the lights on.

+

It’s hard growing accustom to sleeping with light in the room - he’s always been one to enjoy total blackness – but it’s better than waking up in the dark, seeing things that aren't really there.

Months pass by and he forgets about the dreams, forgets about the hands that grab at him, the legs that trip him, the energy he puts into trying to get away from whatever _it_ is.

He makes the mistake of falling asleep with the lights off one night – too exhausted to turn them on when he gets home from a party with the lads – and wakes up gasping for breath.

The dreams get worse after that, even when he sleeps with the lights on, he wakes up with his heart pounding, unable to calm himself down. He gets less and less sleep, starts putting off that dreaded moment he lays down and closes his eyes. He’s exhausted, but he thinks it’s worth it in the end.

+

The lads start to catch on, naturally. They’re in the van, Liam at the back, trying not to doze off to sleep. Louis tries poking him, ruffling his hair, makes a couple jabs at him that usually have Liam swiping his hand across his head. He’s too exhausted to care, though. Harry rubs at his shoulders, Niall throws a crumbled up piece of paper at him, and Zayn’s eyes follow him for the rest of the day.

Zayn shares a room with him that night, the first in a long time. He flips off the light before crawling into bed, mumbling something that vaguely sounds like, “Good night, Li.”

Liam’s got the blankets pulled up to his chin, eyes wide open as he stares into the dark room. He tries to concentrate on his breathing; he read once that’s how you control panic attacks. Somehow the drapes in front of the window have moved to resemble a man and he forgets about his breathing, squeezes his eyes shut and plays through the day over and over again through his head until he falls asleep.

He wakes up screaming, the pillow held to his face, muffling most of the sound. Zayn rolls over, grumbles under his breath.

“Liam?” His voice is groggy (he sounds a lot older in that moment). Liam blinks, looks in his direction.

“It’s alright, Zayn. Go back to sleep.”

+

Zayn doesn’t really leave him alone after that. He hovers over him, silently watching him, eyes calculating. They haven’t spoken about that night, and Liam wonders if Zayn really knows anything.

They start sharing rooms again. Liam wakes up with his head in his pillow, muffling his screaming, sweat drenching his face, every single night.

+

One night he doesn’t wake up. He’s somewhere between consciousness and the dark, depths of his nightmare. He can feel hands on him, someone shaking him, and it takes him a couple minutes before he’s pulled awake by Zayn’s worried voice.

“Liam, Liam, wake up.”

He's screaming, out loud, raw and piercing. Tears are streaming down his face. His body feels like it’s on fire. The light has been switched on, but he still feels eyes on him, hands trying to pull him back into the nightmare. He throws the blankets off of him, stares down at his body to make sure there really isn’t someone there.

“Shhh, Li, shhh. You’re fine.”

 _No, no, no,_ he wants to say, _I’m not._

Eventually Zayn calms him down and they stay that way, Zayn’s arms wrapped around him half-sitting up, for the rest of the night.

+

“You’ve got to talk to someone about this,” Zayn says the next morning. “Not necessarily me,” though he looks like he wouldn’t mind, “but maybe a professional.”

Liam’s eyes go wide at the thought. He’s fine, there’re just dreams. He laughs a little. “No, it’s cool. I’m just . . . you know,” he shrugs. “I’m fine,” he finally says.

Zayn doesn’t say anything more. That night the light stays on and he can feel Zayn’s eyes on him until he pretends to fall asleep. When he hears Zayn snoring, he snaps his eyes open. He can’t get nightmares if he doesn’t sleep, he reckons.

+

“You’re a right mess,” Louis says a couple days (of no sleep) later.

They’re practicing for a gig and Liam’s missed his mark four or five times now. “I guess I just need a break.”

So they take a break and Louis slumps against him, runs his hands through Liam’s hair. Harry and Niall wrestle over some kind of pastry. Zayn switches from laughing at them to watching Liam.

“You know,” Louis says, his voice awfully quiet, “you can tell me anything, right?” His voice drips with raw serenity. Sometimes he forgets that Louis’s the oldest; he seems to realize it all over again in that second.

He takes in a shuddery breath, almost feels like crying, but just nods and rests his head against Louis’ shoulder.

They stay like that for nearly thirty minutes. Liam doesn’t fall asleep, but he relaxes more than he has in a long time.

+

They’re sitting in a little coffee shop between towns. The bus had started making a weird noise a couple miles back and now they’re basically stranded. He’s squished between Louis and Zayn in a booth with Harry and Niall across from them. Louis and Harry are sharing one of their _looks_ and playing footsie or something under the table, not even trying to be subtle. Niall’s chatting up the only worker – a woman in her mid-twenties, who, unsurprisingly, is hanging on to every word Niall says.

Zayn’s got an arm wrapped around Liam’s shoulder and Liam’s so tried, can’t remember the last time he really slept. He’s found himself shutting his eyes in the dressing room of venues and at hotel cafeteria’s, but moments later he snaps his eyes open, an icy feeling taking over his body.

He leans against Zayn, who rubs his hand up and down Liam’s arm, and shuts his eyes, just for a moment, thinks it couldn’t hurt.

Zayn’s mouth, against his ear, whispering his name, is what wakes him up God knows how long later.

“Hm?” He looks around. They’re alone at the booth; Niall’s at the counter talking to the girl and Harry and Louis have disappeared. “What happened?”

“You fell asleep. The bus is ready.”

When they get to the hotel a couple hours later, Zayn crawls into his bed without saying a word – leaves the light on – and wraps an arm around Liam’s waist.

“Go to sleep,” he orders, and Liam does. He wakes up in the morning with Zayn half draped across him, the first dreamless night he’s had in months.

+

It becomes a regular thing. One of the beds in their hotel room always stays made, not slept in.

They’re curled up together, past recognition of whose leg is whose. Liam thinks he could stay like this forever.

“What’re they about?” Zayn asks, his voice even quieter than usual. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he says when Liam squirms. “Just curious.”

Liam shakes his head, though, and shrugs. “I don’t know. Just running away from something.” He doesn’t tell him about the hooded figure in his dreams, or how he sometimes sees it standing at the end of his bed, the voices that whisper in his ear, doesn’t want Zayn thinking he’s gone off the deep end.

“You know, if I could, I’d have the dreams so you didn’t have to. Y’know, if it was possible to steal them from you or something.”

Liam shakes his head and buries his face in Zayn’s neck. “I wouldn’t let you.”

+

“What’s this?” He looks down at the bag Zayn hands him, shakes it a little bit.

Zayn shrugs, looks down like he’s embarrassed. They’re alone in a hotel corridor of some city he doesn’t know the name of. “Just open it. Found it, thought you’d like it.”

Liam reaches in the bag and pulls out a dreamcatcher. It’s blue and white and yellow and has feathers and beads hanging from it. There’s a tag of authenticity on it, claiming it’s handmade, one of a kind. Liam’s speechless.

“I thought it might come in handy.”

Liam just nods.

Later, when they’re on the way to the venue, Zayn intertwines their fingers and squeezes. And somehow, it’s more intimate than if he were to kiss him.

+

He’s standing on the bed, admiring his handwork. “Y’think I’ll get in trouble for hanging this up?”

Zayn’s sitting cross-legged, staring up at him and the dreamcatcher. He shakes his head. “Course not; don’t you know who we are?”

When Liam lies down, he pulls Zayn over, curling into his side. “Think I should hang you up on the wall. You keep all the bad dreams away.”

+

The dreams do go away completely eventually. After talking to a doctor who explains what stress and lack of sleep can do to the body and mind. After learning meditation and how to pace himself. 

Zayn doesn’t stop sleeping in his bed.

 


End file.
